


Monumental Event

by Maychup



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (psst), (theyre gay), Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, I pulled this out of my ass, I was listenign to a sogn and I pulled THIs outta my ass, a hint of gay, can u believe, look I also didnt review this so if I had ANY mistakes that's probably the reason, oooops, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maychup/pseuds/Maychup
Summary: It’s been four years, and it still hurts.Or, Catra and Adora have been at war with each other for nearly four years, and it doesn’t get any easier.





	Monumental Event

Make me (cry) - Noah cyrus ft. Labyrinth

* * *

Glimmer told her that it’ll get easier. That every battle she fought wouldn’t hurt her as much as the last. It would be a microscopic change, but as time passes by, someday it will hurt a little less. That they’ll lose a little less. That they’ll win the land back inch by inch until the Horde’s forces are defeated.

She was right, for the most part.

The battles, instead of feeling as drawn out as before, felt more and more like a simple training exercise. Not to say that the Horde’s strategy was failing; every now and then they’d win a land, and every now and then the rebellion would take it back. Sometimes they can’t and are forced to let go. Village evacuation drills became a lot easier to manage over time, as well.

Adora couldn’t deny it; yes, fighting felt easier; yes, the rebellion is far ahead in terms of winning; yes, their people are happier.

But there was a constant remainder. A thorn in all this progress that Adora can’t confess to either Bow or Glimmer in a gutting fear that it would feel like a betrayal to them.

“What’s wrong, She-ra,” her mind bounced back to reality to the woman standing right before her “cat got your tongue?”

That thorn is Catra.

It felt harder to breathe every time she saw her. Microscopic changes… but still there.

Every ounce of her soul wanted to beg for her to come back, but she knew her old friend wouldn’t listen. Every time their eyes met, she looked for the soul of the friend she had before; the Catra she remembered. Every time they clashed, she looked for flashes of a moment when Catra held back, but it never happened.

Every single time she saw her, it hurt.

To Catra? Maybe she’s losing the war between the Horde and the Rebellion but fighting Adora probably started feeling easier two years ago.

Microscopic changes.

“Your troops are retreating,” Adora jutted her chin to the fight that was beyond them, but Catra didn’t even spare glance “maybe you should too.”

Catra hissed, “sword up, princess. I’m not done with _you_.”

The toxicity in her voice made Adora obey.

Reading Catra’s movement was easier four years ago. They had trained together and practically lived together as friends. She knew her friend’s every move and countered them accurately. Adora felt two steps ahead of Catra every single battle.

But now?

Catra’s movements were less erratic. She didn’t throw herself as often and even started utilizing her tail as a distraction from time to time. Instead of feeling ahead, Adora suddenly felt like she’s met her match. Even as She-ra, Catra’s speed was far too intense to block out as perfectly as she had before.

Adora had scars marring her shoulders, her cheeks, her back from every single strike from her rival. Catra adorned her own battle marks as well – the most prominent being a strike right on her brow.

It was an accidental mark, really. Adora had swung a little to close to her face.

In a battle though, is any form attack an accident?

Adora felt her breathing stutter each time she defended herself against Catra’s ministrations. Eventually, they ended up in an all too familiar position: Catra pinning Adora – or in this case, She-ra - to the ground.

She felt Catra’s nails dig against the skin of her arm. Adora whined. Another mark.

The eyes her rival wore were cold and focused. There was nothing warm and attentive for Adora to hold onto anymore. “I win, princess.”

The announcement felt bitter to Adora’s ears. In some of their quarrels, Catra would win. In every single one of those wins, Catra had done the same exact thing.

And, it looked as if she was going to do it again.

“You’re losing your touch, She-ra.”

 _She-ra,_ Adora wanted to laugh. Catra had gone through hoops upon hoops of breaking the habit of calling her Adora. It was like her name meant nothing.

“Don’t tell me you still think – _cling_ —to the hope that I’ll change my mind. Come with you. Join you and those… princesses.” Her tail swished. A predator looking right at their prey. When Adora shifted her position to better suit her comfort, Catra’s grip tightened. “Well you’re wrong! Like as _if_ I’d join you. Only to what, stand behind a shadow again? I’m not stupid.”

That was it, wasn’t it?

What ultimately ended everything was the pain Catra felt under shadows. Whether it be Shadow Weaver, the Horde, or her own. Constantly, this young woman’s soul was wrapped tightly under the darker hold of expectations and punishment that fell on her shoulders.

Adora.

Adora was her only beacon of light.

Perhaps, maybe she could do it again.

It was sudden, but she felt her strength drain and the pain of digging claws on her arm hurt three times as badly. Her eyes screwed shut and her face twisted in pain, yet just before she could scream, the pain disappeared. Her blue eyes gently blinked open.

Catra was sitting up. Her hand resting on the dirt next to Adora. Not She-ra, but _Adora_.

The look on Catra's eyes didn’t feel any less antagonizing. The chill it gave her was still there. The jealousy, the anger, the hate was just as prominent as before. But… there was something else.

She couldn’t put a finger on it partly, because she felt weaker than she had ever been before.

Also, partly because Catra didn’t let her.

“So, what? You think transforming back to you own skin is going to help?” her tone was bitter.

“N…no, I didn’t.. didn't mean to –” she tried, but again, Catra didn’t let her.

“ _Don’t –”_ Every breath of air in her lungs spilled out when Catra lifted her high enough of the ground to slam her onto a tree. “— _talk_ like as if I don’t know what you’re doing.”

The words hurt plenty more than the bark scratching against her spine. Nothing about this changed. The hurt still felt the same… but this time. This time, it wasn't She-ra taking the blow. It was her.

It hurt even more having Catra move so close to her. Uttering every single hateful word into her ear with such punctuation.

“You don’t know me anymore, Adora. I’m not the same feeble brat that clung to you while we were growing up. I’ve become _better_. Enough to take Shadow Weaver’s rank and your title. And yes, I am losing this war… but like me? We’ll bounce back. Better. Stronger. Enough to hurt _you_ and stake our claim."

Adora chuckled at that, “…Weaver.”

Catra’s cheek brushed against hers. Their noses were practically an inch apart, and Adora – in all her weakened glory – didn’t fail to notice the twitch of her cat ears. “What?”

“I al.. always…” she struggled, the iron grip on her arm loosened ever so slightly. It was almost insignificant to help with her speaking, but she welcomed it nonetheless. “You.. you were always strong. I was.. w-was always jealous of you –”

The pressure returned, and she was pushed even harder against the tree, “ _bullshit_ –”

“C..catra, please,” she arched her back away from the bark of the tree “hurts..”

She could see the tiny spark. A war beneath those eyes. Something she had never seen in the last few years they’ve been at each other’s throats. It’s a solemn beauty at this point. She knew that bringing it up later would force a denial, and Catra was never the type to show weakness.

She clenched her eyes shut.

Microscopic changes.

“Shadow Weaver, she… y-you.. you never showed.. showed her… weak..ness.” she finally managed. It was enough to push the war to Adora’s side. Catra lowered her. The hand that had pushed her against the rough surface remained gripped to her shirt. “You were.. the only one, C-Catra. The o…only one who stood… who stood up.

“And, I.. was” she started tearing up, her eyes welling up with emotions she had ignored. She hadn’t cried for Catra in so long, and she welcomed it. The box was open now, and there was no use closing it under _her_ gaze. “I was… terrified.”

Catra sneered, but it didn’t hold the same strength as before, “you were her _favorite_. Her daughter that she raised under her wing –”

“So were you, but she –” Adora gulped, almost afraid the next words wouldn’t relieve her Anger. Instead, it might even fuel it.

 _“Spit it out,_ ” Catra hissed impatiently. 

She wedged her eyes shut, and the tears dripped to her chin and down to Catra’s clenched hand. “I’m.. I’m sorry. I thought… you were.. you were strong enough. And that you re..really were fine. That..” she gathered herself up and sued whatever strength was left in her system to just get it out, “that you were truly al-alright with what she said.. and w.. what she did to you.

“that you w..were okay. That you were proud of.. of me for b..beating you. I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d.. I thought you were okay. I didn’t.. I didn’t know.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Just Adora’s silent sobs and the faint cheering of the rebellion in the far distance. Adora wouldn’t – couldn’t – even dare look at Catra right now. Her eyes settled at the hand that held her wedged to the tree.

That same hand that reached out and held her when they were young.

The same hand that had offered her to dance all those years ago.

The same hand that cut the webs that marked the true end of their friendship.

And now, that hand went up to grip the tip of her chin, forcing her to look up at the flames of her past. Those eyes held something else. Other than hate, other than anger, other than pain… there was something threatening to fleet away if Adora made one wrong move.

“The Horde’s war is with the Rebellion,” Catra stated, and a little more forcefully she added “but _my_ war… is with _She-ra_.”

Adora’s eyes held her there for a minute longer. “Wh..”

“She was one of the few reasons you left –” Catra started, then stopped. She noticed her eyes twitch to a direction to their left. “Her and your annoying friends,”Catra broke whatever trance was held in those few minor seconds “I should go –”

“Catra, wait –” Adora caught Catra’s hand. Her balance tipped and if it hadn’t been for her feline friend’s quick instinct to pull her up..

“What else could you possibly say?” The bite in her tone was back, but it felt blunter than before.

Adora looked into those eyes. “I c..could.. never hate you.”

 _I love you_.

Catra gave her a once over before pulling her enough to get Adora to stand on her own in whatever strength she had left. “I know,” those ears flattened “that’s what I hate the most about you.”

 _I love you too_.

Before another word, Catra leaped to the nearest branch and disappearing to the darkness of the woods.

It took about a minute of standing alone for her friends to find her.

And, it took another week and a half for Adora to see Catra again. They fought all the same. This time, Catra lost. And whenever Adora won, she always left Catra to pull herself up, hiss, and flee.

This time however, Adora transformed back to offer her a hand to stand back up. Catra didn’t accept it, but when she got up, hissed, and fled, Adora felt her tail brush against her hand.

Adora couldn’t help the smile on her face. Whether it was going to take another four years, she's willing to wait.

Microscopic changes brought forth by a monumental event. 


End file.
